


[MUFFLED PORNO SAX PLAYING IN THE DISTANCE]

by elithewho



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Crack, Desk Sex, Dubious Consent, Elevator Sex, F/M, Face Slapping, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Office Sex, Scratching, Sex Pollen, Vaginal Sex, obscene things done with suspenders and pocket squares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1771123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elithewho/pseuds/elithewho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barba gets bit by a weird bug and has sex with everyone. That's it. That's the fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[MUFFLED PORNO SAX PLAYING IN THE DISTANCE]

**Author's Note:**

> This is the dumbest thing I've ever written for so many reasons, this is absolute nonsense, pure crack and unforgivable smut. Enjoy.
> 
> I dedicate this fic to Morgan, this is your fault for encouraging me. ILU forever, thank you for your words of inspiration and help with editing.

Barba knew there was something off the moment he started his day. Everything seemed to be going normally. He matched his tie and pocket square, put on his favorite shirt (pink with white stripes), coiffed his hair as usual, headed to his customary Starbucks to get coffee. The only problem was how incredibly horny he was. Unusually so. His sex drive seemed to have tripled since the night before. 

In line at Starbucks, he kept staring at the ass of the person standing in front of him, mesmerized. It took a tap on the shoulder from the person behind him to make him realize he should be moving up. The fact that the person in front of him was a man in his fifties wasn’t even the weirdest part. After tapping him on the shoulder he could have sworn the smartly dressed woman behind him had covertly tried to touch his butt. Yes, something was definitely off.

The only thing he could think of, he mused, staring unblinking at the barista taking his order, entranced suddenly by her mouth, was that weird bug bite he got the night before. On his right shoulder, this morning it was red and itchy. It came from the strangest bug he’d ever seen. Like a little purple beetle. He’d been so bewildered, he tried to google it, but to no avail.

And now, as he scratched absently at the bite through many layers of finely tailored suit, he completely missed his order being called because he had been watching another barista steam milk in the most intensely erotic way he’d ever witnessed. After the third time his name was bellowed, Barba finally snatched his coffee from the young man at the counter, wondering if he’d always been attracted to men and had deeply repressed it or if this was a new, sudden development.

By the time Barba arrived at his office, he had not only checked out, but imagined having sex with every person he came in contact with. The security guards at the front desk. The homeless man selling flowers by the curb. It was getting a little disturbing.

And unless his brains were totally addled, it wasn’t just him. When he asked his secretary to bring him more coffee, she actually moaned out loud. And one of his interns, his male intern, his conservative Christian intern who wore a promise ring and was saving his first kiss for marriage, blushed bright red and started stammering when Barba asked him a question.

Barba decided he would stay in his office the entire day and not speak to anyone. Which was rather difficult when his secretary kept wandering in to speak with him for no reason at all and he kept imagining bending her over his desk. Barba tugged at his tie, feeling like he was going to overheat. Maybe he should just go home sick.

He was seriously considering this when Detectives Amaro and Rollins arrived. _Oh for fuck’s sake,_ he thought in irritation. Of course they would be here.

They had a number of important things to tell him and Barba was listening very carefully, arranging his face in his classic “I’m pissed off so talk quickly” expression, while inside his head he imagined every sort of filthy thing he would do to Detectives Rollins and Amaro. Did Rollins always dress so sexily at work? He could see each button across her breasts pull slightly every time she drew breath. And Amaro’s pecs seemed ready to burst right through his shirt. Did he really have to stand with one hand on his hip like that? Barba was about to slap it away and tell him to stand like a normal person when he realized Rollins was asking him a question.

“Are you alright, Counselor?” she was saying. Was it just his imagination or was she blushing?

Barba coughed. And coughed again.

“I’m fine,” he managed at last. “Just a little under the weather.” He tried to remember what they had been talking about so he could make a snide comment about them not doing their jobs properly but he honestly could not remember.

“OK, we’ll keep in touch?” Rollins said, her inflection rising toward the end in a way that suggested she doubted that he was really fine.

“Yes, thank you,” Barba replied shortly, desperate for them to leave so he could stop imagining them both naked.

Amaro looked surly and offended as usual. Rollins was still pink. They both left and Barba dropped his head in his hands. Yes, he was definitely leaving.

He wasn’t alone five seconds when Rollins walked back in again. Amaro wasn’t with her. Barba’s head shot up, just about ready to shout at her to leave, but he didn’t.

Instead, he managed to choke out a strangled, “Was there something else, Detective?”

Rollins looked confused, like she hadn’t just walked back into his office.

“Yes, there was,” she said at last, but not elaborating on just what.

“OK?” Barba practically gasped, despairing that anything would ever be ok again.

Suddenly, Rollins was standing next to his desk. She was also pulling at the neckline of her flimsy silk blouse.

“Did somebody crank the heat or something?” was all she said.

Barba would have dearly loved to ask if she was really wasting his precious time to ask if somebody turned the heat on or not, but he couldn’t actually speak. He could swear that her nipples were showing through the thin material of her blouse.

“Goddammit, it’s hot,” Rollins continued, shrugging off her jacket. She leaned against his desk like she needed support to stand. She had closed the door, Barba realized. Why the hell had she done that.

He didn’t have much time to consider this question, or any question, in much detail because he had Rollins pressed up against his desk and she was sucking his fingers. Barba couldn’t have told anyone in a million years how this situation arose. He was having trouble connecting A to B. But there he was, palming her breast through her blouse as she rubbed her leg against his hard-on. She smelled like lilac soap. Her tongue was teasing the sensitive pads of his fingertips. Those were only things of importance that could penetrate his brain.

Speaking of penetration, Rollins continued to fellate his fingers. Barba hadn’t been this aroused since was a teenager, making out with his first girlfriend in the back of someone’s car. He stopped groping Rollins long enough to undo his pants. Rollins had hoisted herself onto his desk and was pushing his jacket off his shoulders. She wrapped her legs around his waist and grabbed his suspenders in both hands, pulling and then letting them snap back. This seemed to amuse her. Or arouse her. Maybe both. It was all very confusing. Usually, Barba would have been deeply annoyed with anyone playing with his suspenders like they were toys, but he was far too preoccupied with taking off her pants. Her badge, clipped as usual on her belt loop, went clattering to the floor as Barba wrestled Rollins out of her slacks. Barba pulled off her panties, letting them dangle off her ankle in an undignified manner, and, victorious, went to slip out of his suspenders and trousers.

“No,” Rollins muttered, her breathing heavy like she had just run a mile. “Keep them on.”

Bewildered, Barba didn’t try to argue. He just needed to be inside her. That was the most important thing to accomplish at the moment. He struggled to extract his cock while Rollins fiddled with his suspenders like a kitten with a ball of yarn, but finally, blissfully, he pushed into her. Rollins moaned deep in her throat, grasping his suspenders like some obscene sex toy. Barba could only thrust frantically inside her, holding her hips in place as the desk shuddered beneath them. In what felt like no time at all, Rollins was gasping, clenching around his dick and Barba came too, shouting, as Rollins twisted his suspenders around her fists.

Barba collapsed in his chair, wondering what the fuck just happened. Rollins seemed to have recovered quickly and was putting her pants back on, but rather clumsily. 

“That was um… I’m sorry,” Barba said after a painfully awkward moment as Rollins searched the floor for her badge. “That was very unprofessional.”

Rollins laughed, but a bit hysterically.

“I should say sorry,” she said. “I have no idea what came over me. That was really weird, right?”

“Really weird,” Barba repeated faintly, feeling like he had been punched twenty times in the chest.

After exchanging awkward goodbyes, Rollins dashed out. Only then did Barba realize his secretary had been sitting at her desk outside, probably overhearing every creak and moan. Barba cradled his head in his hands, wishing he could use the fire exit and not have to speak to or look at anyone. One would think finally having sex would have cured him of this desperate, overwhelming desire to have sex, but on the contrary, it seemed to only make him even hornier.

What was wrong with him? Some bizarre medical condition? And why the fuck did it affect Rollins too? Barba scratched at the bite on his shoulder, knowing he needed to leave the building and go home this instant. He put on his coat, fixed his trousers and tie and gathered whatever papers and files he needed, but his head was so out of it, he barely knew what was important and what wasn’t.

Feeling more than a little psychotic, Barba swept out of his office, not daring to glance at his secretary as he passed (but he was sure he heard her moan in the distance as he hurried away) and kept up a speedy pace all the way to the first floor, staring straight ahead and not looking at anyone.

His cellphone binged distractingly, but he ignored it. He was so intent on leaving without interacting with anyone that he didn’t even notice Detective Amaro trying to get his attention.

“Hey, Counselor,” Amaro said, jogging to keep up with Barba’s harried stride. “Have you seen Detective Rollins?”

“Ah, what?” Barba said, stopping dead in his tracks.

“She said she was going to tell you something, but she didn’t come back,” Amaro said, looking confused and handsome.

 _Handsome?_ Barba shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

“Yes, she did, but then she left.”

“Really,” Amaro replied. “What did she want?”

Barba vividly recalled her hands twisting his suspenders as she came. He shut his eyes, dazed, and may have made a strangled little gasp in his throat.

“Counselor…” Amaro said again, insistently. He reached out and grabbed Barba by the shoulder.

 _No, don’t do that,_ Barba’s mind bellowed. He swayed a little on the spot.

“You don’t look so good,” Amaro said, concern in his voice. And something else, too, something Barba was trying hard not to recognize.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Amaro went on and began steering Barba in God knows what direction. Barba followed obediently, unable to assemble his thoughts into any coherent fashion. His nose was full of Amaro’s sharp cologne. 

Barba was lead into a private meeting room and sat down forcibly in a chair. Amaro leaned over him, six feet of sex. Barba shut his eyes again, light headed. Amaro tapped him lightly on the face.

“Do I need to call an ambulance?” he said.

Barba glared up at him.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, annoyed and sexually frustrated. “You’re not my babysitter. Thanks and you can leave now.”

Amaro leaned back, twisting his mouth like a petulant child, squaring his shoulders in his typical annoying display of masculinity.

“You know, I don’t know why I expected…” Amaro began, clearly about to try to nail him to the wall. Barba stood up and grabbed his tie, shutting him up with a kiss. He’d never kissed a man before. Amaro was taller than he was used to and tasted like cigarettes. His chin scraped against Barba’s with the unfamiliar burn of stubble. Barba fully expected Amaro to push him roughly away, maybe even slug him for his troubles, but instead, he shoved Barba against the wall.

 _That works too,_ Barba thought dizzily. Amaro pressed his chest against his and dug his fingers into Barba’s hips. They both gasped, their teeth clinking clumsily together. Barba thrust against the other man, amazed at how hard he was. It couldn’t have been twenty minutes since he was coming inside of Rollins as she sprawled over his desk. Now her partner was shoving a hand down the front of his trousers.

Barba groaned, flooded with sensation. Amaro’s other hand was gripping the back of his head, tangled in his hair. Before Barba could even consider the novelty of another man’s hand on his cock, Amaro was jerking him off like he did this sort of thing every day. And maybe he did, Barba wasn’t one to judge. Amaro pulled a handful of Barba’s hair, a feeling Barba found immensely and curiously arousing. As Amaro continued to expertly tug his cock, Barba had the overwhelming urge to return the favor. As he struggled to undo Amaro’s belt with a shaking hand, Amaro bit his neck. Barba gasped and thrust up against him. Finally working his way into Amaro’s boxers and grabbing his dick, Barba found that jerking off another man wasn’t that different from jerking off himself. The principle was mostly the same.

They quickly established a rhythm, more or less, and Barba was remarkably close to coming. Amaro bit his neck again, pulled his hair and did some twisty thing around his dick and Barba was coming for the second time that morning. He gasped, trying to catch his breath, and Amaro was still thrusting into his hand. Barba recovered himself and went back to jerking him off, sort of wishing Amaro had had the courtesy to come at the same time he did like Rollins had. 

When Amaro, too, has finally spent himself, he backed slowly away, tucked his cock back inside his pants and, to Barba’s infinite annoyance, grabbed the other man’s still immaculate pocket square to clean himself up. Barba snatched it back, glaring. The indignity. But he, too, was feeling more than a little sticky. He wiped his hands carefully and stuck his lovely, ruined silk pocket square inside his coat.

The two men were carefully avoiding each other’s eyes, adopting the “let’s pretend this never happened and never speak of it again” unspoken agreement. 

“See you later, Counselor,” Amaro said, surly as ever. He strolled away, more swagger in his step than strictly necessary, as if he needed to convince the whole world he hadn’t just given another man a handjob.

Barba adjusted his tie and smoothed back his hair. His phone was chirping loudly at him. It was Sergeant Benson and she had sent him several messages, informing him she needed to see him at the station right away. He ground his teeth, desperate for the rest of the world to go away so he could stop accidentally fucking them. He texted back that he would be there as soon as possible. Really, why couldn’t something about today be normal?

The journey to the station was more harrowing than usual, given that Barba hadn’t been tempted to stop and have sex with every person on the street before. There were several near misses, like his (balding, near elderly) cab driver propositioning him in Spanish which he very nearly accepted and the clerk at the front desk eye-fucking him so intensely as she signed him in that he actually considered the logistics of going somewhere private to fuck her and still be on time for his meeting with Sergeant Benson.

By the grace of God, Barba made it to the squad room without having sex with any random strangers. Naturally, the two people he did have random sex with that day were also there. Rollins and Amaro were both bent over their desks, very fixedly not looking at him. Only Detective Tutuola greeted him normally, to which Barba responded with a curt nod. Maybe he would have a normal interaction with someone today? It was always possible.

As he walked into Benson’s office, he squared his shoulders and tried to look like the serious attorney he normally was. Benson looked grim. Barba copied her, adopting a somber expression he hoped would be appropriate.

“It took you long enough,” she snapped the moment he walked in.

“I’m sorry, but my schedule doesn’t revolve around yours,” he answered at once. _If only you knew,_ he wanted to growl.

Benson stood up and, with her brow furrowed, shut the door. Barba began to sweat in spite of himself.

“Have you noticed anything weird about the squad room?” she said.

Barba wanted to die. He actually wanted to jump out the window and plunge to his death.

“No,” he said, trying for annoyance. “I just got here.”

“I mean Rollins and Amaro,” she continued. “They both seem freaked out. Did anything strange happen at your office?”

Barba shook his head, desperately wishing that Benson wasn’t standing so close and smelling so delicious.

“Didn’t you have something important to tell me?” he said, agitated and trying not to show it. “Didn’t you insist I come right away because it was so important?”

Benson nodded sternly.

“Yes, that’s true,” she began, and then stopped, looking confused. “Have you done something new with your hair?” she finished.

Barba was on the verge of running from the office and then the squad room and then possibly leaving the city, for good, but he was rooted to the spot. Benson’s eyes were raking his form.

“No…” he started, lamely, all pretense that this wasn’t going to happen dropping away completely as Benson backed him up against the wall and inserted a knee between his legs.

“Are you sure?” she mumbled, pressing her body against his, very appealingly. She ran her hands through his hair, mussing it up completely. “Something about you is different.”

 _Everything about everyone is different today_ , Barba thought to himself, leaning into her touch and rubbing his erection onto her leg. He tried not to think about Amaro pressing him against the wall and pulling his hair with a hand around his cock, but it had only happened thirty minutes ago so it was sort of hard to forget.

Benson kissed him hard, sucking and biting his lower lip, continuing to make a complete tangled mess of his hair. Why did that have to be arousing, why couldn’t he have his hair untampered with? He let Benson lead the way, letting her push off his coat and suit jacket, pull at his shirt collar and ruin the knot on his tie because why not? Everything else was being ruined today. She began roughly kissing his neck and if she noticed the red marks that Amaro’s teeth had left behind, she didn’t mention it.

Benson pulled way, only to remove her badge and gun, dropping them to the floor in what Barba thought was an egregious display of poor gun safety, but then she was pushing him onto the couch and straddling him. Barba groaned, rubbing his cock into the heat of her crotch. Resigned to the fact that he was just going to keep fucking people at random, Barba went to unbutton her shirt and cup her breasts through her bra. Benson moaned and tore at the front of his trousers, apparently desperate to get at his cock. At least she didn’t seem preoccupied with his suspenders. She tugged them off his shoulders and shoved his trousers and boxer briefs down far enough to grab his dick, giving him a quick, ragged stroke and then climbed off to deal with her own pants.

Dazed, Barba watched her slide easily out of her slacks and then mount him again, this time angling his cock at her entrance. _Cutting right to the chase,_ he thought dizzily, _that was so like her._ Then she sunk onto his cock and began riding him, hard. Barba let his head fall back and just let her go, holding her bouncing breasts in both hands. Was he really this close to coming already? He had shot his load twice today and here he was on the edge again. Whatever weird disease he contracted must have given him a superhuman dick as well, because he didn’t even feel that chafed. Benson grabbed his hair and sunk her nails into his shoulder, moaning, apparently just as close as he was. 

Before he even knew what was happening, Benson had slapped him across the face. Barba gasped, mostly in shock, but Benson’s brutal pace had not let up. So it was some weird sex thing. He could deal with that. In fact, as she slapped him again, he rutted up inside her, powerfully aroused by this show of dominance. Apparently anything could get him off today. Benson slapped him a few more times and Barba groaned, his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head, and he felt her orgasm, tightening all around him. He came too, thrusting erratically. 

As Benson dismounted and began to dress herself, a phrase from the Bible floated through Barba’s head. _“For the spirit is willing, but the body is weak!”_ It was the opposite for him. His body was as strong as a steel trap but his spirit was like wet tissue paper. He stood up and adjusted his clothing, contemplating the merits of throwing himself in front of a subway train. Benson had composed herself with remarkable efficiency. She was already sitting behind her desk like nothing ever happened.

“Thank you, Counselor,” she said as though she hadn’t just fucked him on the couch.

“Any time,” he said without thinking. _No,_ he wanted to correct himself, _not any time. Never again._ Instead he just took his things and left.

Back in the squad room, Barba dearly wished he had just exited through the window instead. Detective Tutuola was staring at him, open-mouthed. Amaro was gripping his phone with such force the thing was in danger of shattering and he didn’t even seem to be making a call. Rollins was practically deep throating her pen. Barba ignored all of them and sought out the men’s room, feeling like his skin was too tight for his body. 

In the men’s room, he took stock of himself. His shirt and tie were wrinkled, his hair was a mess, and his pocket square, he recalled with a pang, was ruined. It was one of his nicer ones, too. 

Just then the door opened and someone entered. Barba pretended to be washing his hands, hoping not to make eye contact with whoever it was. 

“Hey, Counselor,” he heard behind him. To his horror, it was Detective Tutuola. 

Barba surreptitiously glanced at him. 

“Hi, Detective,” he responded, casually as he could. Tutuola didn’t seem to be in the men’s room to perform any activities typically associated with a men’s room. He was standing right behind Barba, invading his personal space. 

“Did you… ah… want something?” Barba struggled to bite out, looking everywhere but at his reflection in the mirror. 

“Yeah, something,” Tutuola responded gruffly, and grabbed Barba by his shoulders. 

Barba decided he would officially stop being surprised every time this happened, because it apparently wasn’t going to stop. And it was about time he revised his sexual identity and short list of kinks and preferences because if someone told him yesterday that would really, really enjoy being pressed against a bathroom wall and roughly fondled by a male detective he considered a professional colleague and nearly a friend, he would have laughed hysterically. He still sort of wanted to laugh hysterically, as he felt Tutuola press an evidently aroused body against his ass and slide a hand around his waist to cup his hardened cock in his trousers. 

_Was this really happening?_ he thought, for the thousandth time that day. He could feel Tutuola’s breath on his neck and the man’s hand unzipping his pants. As his trousers, suspenders and boxer briefs were shoved roughly down, Barba only had the briefest moment to contemplate what would happen next. Then he felt Tutuola’s finger at the entrance to his ass. Barba emitted the most undignified noise he’d ever made, something between a squeak and a moan. With his other hand, Tutuola petted his hair soothingly. 

“It’s OK, baby,” he muttered. 

_Baby?_ Barba felt faint. Tutuola spit on his hand and slip a finger inside Barba’s ass with the air of someone who had done this before. Barba groaned despite himself, enjoying it way too much for a supposedly straight man as Tutuola fingered him. All too soon, he withdrew his fingers and Barba whimpered. He actually whimpered. _Why even bother having dignity,_ he thought bitterly. Even as that thought crossed his mind, he heard Tutuola unbuckled his pants. _Oh dear god._

“Just relax,” Tutuola said in what he probably thought was a reassuring tone. 

_Relax,_ Barba thought. _No problem._ Tutuola pressed his cock at Barba’s entrance and Barba wondered if he would ever feel relaxed again. Even so, as Tutuola eased inside him, he couldn’t deny how really fucking good it felt. It hurt, it hurt a lot, but he was also groaning and his cock was twitching against the bathroom wall. _Someone was bound to walk in on them,_ he thought in a panic. It would be just his luck. _And then what? Gangbang in the bathroom?_ It was alarming how much that thought appealed to him. 

However, as Tutuola pushed completely inside him and began to thrust, slowly, they remained totally alone. Which was probably a good thing, seeing as how Barba was struggling to keep his moans in check. As his ass adjusted to the man’s girth, Barba felt Tutuola increase his pace. When Tutuola’s cock hit his prostate, it was all he could do not come right then and there. Seeming to sense what he was doing to the man, Tutuola angled his cock that way again and Barba groaned. At the same time, Tutuola reached around Barba’s waist again and fisted his cock. Barba saw stars. Tutuola hit his prostate a few more times, jerking his cock in time with the rhythm and Barba came, powerfully, all over the wall. Gasping, boneless, Barba leaned weakly against the wall as Tutuola continued to pound him roughly. Thankfully, the other man came after only a few more thrusts and pulled out, leaving Barba to nearly collapse without his support keeping him upright. 

Tutuola tucked himself into his pants and gave Barba what he must have thought was an affection tap on his bare ass before leaving. Barba’s hands shook as he cleaned himself with paper towels and put his clothes back in order. He wondered if he could get a lateral transfer to somewhere very far away, like the moon, or if he should just become a deep sea fisherman or something. Anything that would get him away from the intense humiliation of continuing to work with all the people he had had sex with today. _But maybe,_ he reasoned desperately, _if he’s had sex with everyone, it’s kind of like having sex with no one?_ At least they’re on equal ground again. 

As he walked back into the squad room, Barba just pretended it was any other day and he hadn’t had sex with nearly everyone there. His ass was sore, his throat hurt where Benson and Amaro had bit and scratched him and his dick didn’t even feel satisfied yet. That damned bug bite continued to twinge. What a day. 

In the elevator, Barba was blissfully alone. He was about to feel really good about the next few minutes when someone shoved their briefcase between the nearly closed doors, making them open again. Minonna Efron strolled in and Barba nearly wept. _No no no no no no,_ he wanted to scream to the heavens. Instead, he pointedly ignored her. 

“Counselor,” Efron said in greeting. 

Barba only nodded in her general direction, trying not to look at her. 

“Nice day, isn’t it,” she said, being uncharacteristically friendly. Barba didn’t reply. Couldn’t reply. 

“Oh shit,” she exclaimed, dropping all her files on the floor of the elevator. Barba supposed the gentlemanly thing to do would be to help her pick everything up, but he took one look at her ass as she bent over at the waist (who bends at the waist, why is she doing this) and couldn’t actually move. Oh, then she was on her knees. For the love of God. Then she was right in front of him, on her knees. Was the elevator seriously still moving? How hadn’t they reached their floor yet? 

“Something wrong, Counselor?” Efron whispered in her fake innocent voice she often used in court. 

Barba shook his head stiffly. The elevator continued to ding and not open. They were even on the right floor. 

“Looks like the elevator’s broken,” she sighed in what he imagined was supposed to be disappointment, but she wasn’t really selling it. _Is that best you can do, Counselor?_ he wanted to sneer. Efron was sliding toward him across the floor, still on her knees. Barba dropped his briefcase. She slithered her hands up his thighs and pressed her face into his crotch, where (surprise, surprise) he was already hard. He felt a little bad. He imagined he smelled pretty gnarly down there, since he’d had sex with four people today and hadn’t had a shower once. 

Efron didn’t seem to mind. Barba leaned against the wall as she unbuttoned and tugged at his trousers. Giving into the weirdness of the day, Barba just slid his suspenders off and let Efron pull his dick out. He already knew she had a talented mouth in the courtroom and now he knew she had a talented mouth in other respects too. Barba grabbed the back of her head, trying not to get carried away and start thrusting into her mouth. She teased the head of his dick, cupping his balls in one hand, gripping the base in the other. As she slid her mouth further and further down his dick, she provided just enough suction to make him moan out loud. Soon Barba was thrusting into her mouth and she didn’t seem to mind. Somehow he had knocked her glasses off onto the floor. She reached around and grabbed a handful of his ass, which only inflamed him further. 

Just when he felt like he was on the edge of exploding in her mouth, Efron pulled away. Barba whined, all sense of dignity and decorum long forgotten. Efron stood up and hitched her skirt above her hips. Had he never noticed how fucking hot she was? And with her glasses off and mouth swollen from sucking his dick, she was just even hotter. 

“C’mon,” she growled, pulling her pantyhose and underwear down her knees. “Fuck me right here, Counselor.” 

Barba didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed her hips and bent her over so that she was gripping the railing of the elevator and spread her legs wide enough to give him access. Barba slid into her tight heat and she moaned, arching her back into him. Holding her steady against the wall, he rocked into her, not bothering to be gentle. Efron seemed to like that; she pounded her hand against the wall and screamed “Objection, objection!” 

Barba slid a hand around her hips and found her clit, wanting to feel her clenching around him. He rubbed her clit hard, thrusting roughly. Efron was screaming incoherently. 

“You like that, Counselor?” Barba growled, completely losing his head. 

“I’ll allow it,” she bit out, pushing her hips backward. 

Before long, Efron came with a strangled scream and Barba was not far behind her, groaning and rutting wildly. Efron sagged against the elevator wall and groaned, “Overruled” in a low, worn out voice. 

Barba pulled out, his head swimming. As both counselors fixed their clothes, Barba wondered how they were actually going to deal with the broken elevator. Then, as if by sex magic, the doors dinged again and slid open. Barba couldn’t even care enough to wonder how any of it was possible, he just helped Efron gather her dropped papers (some of which were hopelessly soiled) and they exited together. 

They parted ways without even speaking and Barba was certain he needed to go home at once. Shut all the doors and windows and not come out again for several years. The bite on his shoulder itched fiercely. As he hailed a cab, a young woman walking a pack of dogs eyed him suggestively. Barba stared up at the sky. _Not again,_ he prayed inwardly. _Please, not again._


End file.
